


The Hero & the Villain

by Silveriss



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anti-Hero, Anti-Villain, Bad Ending, Body Modification, Death, F/F, Feeling of Meaninglessness, Found Family, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Multiple Endings, POV Alternating, Past Relationship(s), Science Fiction, Self-Destruction, Superheroes, Surgery, This is not a happy one people, Violence, emotional isolation, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silveriss/pseuds/Silveriss
Summary: "Once again, the Hero had saved the day. She had smashed Chaos down, right through the macadam of the street, and now order could reign again.Until the next villain came, and it would start all over again."The Hero lives to destroy evil, and hopefully herself in the process. The Restrainer perpetrates evil to take care of her family. This is the story of the confrontation that took one of them out - or both.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! Here's to a 20biteen filled with peace, growth and all the healing you need.
> 
> This all started from a tumblr prompt, and tumbled down the hill of inspiration to become this monster you are now presented with. The themes are heavy, but the story is, hopefully, interesting - as for the ending, you get to keep the one you like best. Aren't I generous?
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to my precious friends and amazing (though unofficial) betas madeshika, nichanana, cupcakeofcrowns and aoquesth. You all are the best and I would probably never post anything if it weren't for your support and comments.

Once again, the Hero saved the day. She had smashed Chaos down, right through the macadam of the street, and now order could reign again.

Her breaths came hard through her battered body, exiting her mouth tinted with the taste of blood. Drops of it dripped from her knuckles, knees, her cheek, her flank. She hated projectiles. Hated it when she couldn’t focus solely on reaching the villain and had to take too many other elements into account. She wasn’t as good in defense as she was in attack and it showed, especially with Chaos. Big scraps of ground, rocks, cars - everything had swirled and swung and soared. She was nothing if not one big throbbing pain - but the Hero was still standing, and Chaos was dead, and order would reign again.

Until the next villain came, and it would start all over again.

*

Sounds were coming back to her ears. Cries, cheers and the distinct flashes of the press. The Hero straightened her back. Looking like a winner - a savior -, the Hero gave the gathering crowd a solid smile for them to hold onto. They screamed and laughed and cried and the Hero stood in a plain of debris. Then the flock of journalists swooped on her, and the Hero smiled and smiled and talked, and the journalists asked and asked and fought, and when the questions became barbs the Hero pushed on through.

She flew off. The crowd on the ground gasping as one was the last thing she heard before wind filled her ears. She flew for a long time, too broken to speed through. She could feel the tissues starting to grow and mend and scar, and the blood stopping to drip. It itched terribly every time.

When she came home, she was greeted by silence. It almost felt off, this emptiness, but she remembered then and shrugged it through. She peeled her mask off in the equipment room, and walked on to the repair room before she stepped out of her suit. The material was solid, but it was not armor, and she would have to stitch it up before giving it a good wash. Speaking of a good wash… she left her suit next to the sewing machine, shuffling around in her underwear to the bathroom. She took a long, scalding shower, letting the water flow until it didn’t came down red, or dirty, or with piss. She was the only one to ever use that shower - if she was too tired to prevent herself from peeing right now instead of later in the toilet, no one would mind.

Once she was all dry and dressed, she poured herself a large glass of water. She gulped it down, then downed three more of them. When that was done she started to stretch, battling hard not to wince at every pull and flex and twist. It was a painful half an hour before she could finally eat something. She made meat, a lot of it, with vegetables and a big glass of milk. She did the dishes. She sat on the couch and ate an apple. She sewed her suit back up and put it in the washing machine. She brushed her teeth. She did not look at her phone. She went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Mom! I’m leaving!”

“Have fun at school!” Cordelia shouted from the lab and into the intercom, careful not to let her eyes wander away from the operation she was conducting. Surgery and transplant on the ocular system was always delicate - the one she was trying to achieve was more than that. One tiny fraction of a millimeter off and Danton could not only lose his left eye, but half of his face and probably his life as well. Cordelia was confident she could do it, as long as no one and nothing decided to chip at her concentration and distract her. She was the best surgeon to have ever surged, after all.

A few hours after Deb’s departure - and eleven and a half since the beginning of the operation -, Cordelia was done. She moved the camerarm (a robotic arm with a built-in camera of her invention that she used for particularly delicate or small-level interventions) away from Danton’s eye with extreme caution, then rolled it to the sanitizing room where it would be cleaned with a thoroughness no health facility could yet achieve. She rolled the rest of the equipment back in its place and away from the bed, which she pushed through the automatic door of the operating room. On her way to the resting room, she flicked the switch from a red OPERATION IN PROGRESS, DO NOT DISTURB to a green DONE, PLEASE CLEAN. The message was displayed in every room of the mansion, and on every device belonging to a resident. For those on cleaning duty, it would even come with instructions. Cordelia was pragmatic like that.

Once Danton’s bed was settled and Danton himself was connected to the monitors, Cordelia fished her phone out of her pocket. She typed a short message.

**[To: William] I put him in room 05. He should wake up in about an hour.**

She checked every screen and digits one last time to make sure it was as safe as could be, then hit send and left the room.

*

She was almost done with the pasta a la carbonara when her alarm went off. Danton was starting to wake up.

She texted Andy to come season the sauce and make sure lunch would be ready in half an hour, and was off. She ran down the flight of stairs to the underground floor, ecstatic and worried all at once. She really hoped the operation had worked. She stripped quickly and stepped into the sanitizing airlock, where she dressed back up into her surgeon clothes as the sanitizor did its work. When the screen on the right wall of the airlock declared she was clean, Cordelia was free to step out and half-run to Danton’s room.

William was here, of course, looking at a slightly stirring Danton with concern etched in every line of his body, craving but not daring to take his hand. He glanced up at Cordelia when the door slided open, and managed a small smile. Cordelia hoped the one she flashed back was as reassuring as she wanted it to be.

Then Danton made a feeble sound, and Cordelia stepped further into the room. She checked the monitors: everything was good. He was waking up normally, slowly, and with his regular heart rate. He didn’t seem in pain, either. William gasped, and Cordelia almost asked him why before she saw that it was just Danton gripping his hand. Somehow, in semi-consciousness, he had still managed to find it. It was Danton’s turn to gasp, then, and Cordelia turned to him.

“Breathe, Danton. Danton, it’s me, Cordelia. Breathe. I’m with William,” she said, stroking his mess of a hair. She glanced at the monitors. Still nothing. “Everything’s fine. Just breathe. You’re home, in the resting room, after your operation. Do you remember?”

Danton’s breathing slowed. His body relaxed back down, and his eye fluttered open. He fixed his eyes first on the ceiling, then Cordelia. Carefully, he nodded. Cordelia smiled.

“Good. Don’t talk yet, just breathe. You have to drink some water first,” she said, and as she did so turned to grab the glass of water she had prepared on the nightstand. “Will, can you make him sit up, please?”

William startled away from Danton’s face, and immediately bent down to push one of many buttons linked to the many functions of the bed. With very low speed, so as not to frighten or strain the patient, the first fifth of the bed raised Danton up in a sitting position. He was still holding William’s hand, and Cordelia had to touch his shoulder to make him look away from William long enough to drink the whole glass.

“How long,” he croaked at her, and Cordelia made him drink another full glass.

“About twelve and a half hours,” she said when he was done, and he nodded.

“How are you feeling?” Will asked, brows furrowed.

Danton smiled at him. “I’m fine. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he said back with a tremor and a smile.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, but let them have their moment. The operation hadn’t been without risks, and she could understand the emotion - she herself was being washed over by a wave of relief. And she remembered love, too; she remembered caring for someone so strongly she had feared it would break her. She remembered the meetings of eyes that shut everything else away from them, remembered holding hands like a lifeline. She remembered how intense it could be, and so she let them forget she was here, for a time. Then she clapped.

They both jumped. She grinned.

“Alright! Now let’s see what this eye can do. May I take a look at it?” she asked, and Danton nodded, letting go of William’s hand. She gestured for Danton to lie down against the mattress and scooted her chair closer to the bed. The eye looked good. Normal, or at least somewhat close to it. The pupil looked reactive, and bigger, as it occupied the space that the iris previously had. It didn’t look much different than if Danton’s iris hd been black, except that it shrank and extended depending on the light, like any normal pupil did. The eyelids were gone - she hadn’t had a choice.

“Well, this looks good,” she said, and patted Danton’s shoulder. “How well can you see with it?”

He blinked his right eye, looked around, squinted, then shut his right eye closed.

“P- Pretty good, actually. Better than with the other one, and much better than before. It… it does feel kinda _weird_ though.”

“How weird?”

He frowned and shook his head, visibly troubled. “I don’t know, like… enhanced, or something. Saturated, but not just the colors, it’s _everything_. And it kind of hurts, too, but I’m guessing that’s normal.”

Cordelia nodded, smiling. “It’s all normal, really. The change is a lot to take in, and you’re going to have to get used to it before you can really deploy its full potential… Do you want something for the pain?”

“Oh, okay, cool, and uh, no thanks. I’m good,” he said, not really paying attention but looking around instead. “This is _really_ cool.”

Cordelia smirked. “Wait until you try the coolest part.” Both William and Danton turned to look at her, a question in their look. She wiggled her eyebrows. “You can actually shoot _laser_ with it.”

“ _What?_ ” they said, then looked at each other.

“This is _so cool,_ ” Danton whooped, at the same time that William said: “That’s _terrifying_.”

Cordelia grinned, pleased by both of their reactions. “Isn’t it great? You’ll have to learn how to use it first, but once that’s done you’re going to be _amazing_. And it’s perfectly safe, too,” she added, looking at Will. He seemed dubious, but Danton was excited enough for the two of them. “Wanna try it?”

He looked at her like she was giving him the best of gifts. “Can I?”

“Just look to the ceiling, and think about it. I built it like a muscle, so if your brain sends the command, your eye should respond.”

Danton did as she said. He looked up, frowning - and a ray of laser shot to the ceiling, not leaving so much as a trace on the surface. That all walls should be laser-proof was a doctrine of Cordelia she was particularly proud of.

Will and Danton gaped at her. She beamed.

 

* * *

 

The Hero woke up with a start and a gasp in a puddle of sweat. The whole room stank with it. It took her a second to figure out what’d woken her: her phone, ringing, buzzing, on the nightstand.  Without thinking she grabbed it and pressed ANSWER. She only realised her mistake when a voice started speaking through it.

_“Hello? Misha?”_

She wanted to throw up.

_“I can hear you breathing, Misha. I know it’s you.”_

“...Nataly,” she croaked, slumping back against the wall in defeat. Her ceiling was so white.

_“So you still speak. Good.”_

“Why are you calling?”

Silence. Then: _“Are you serious?”_

She sighed, and let her head thump backward against the wall. Nataly swore.

 _“You really are serious. I_ worry, _Misha. That’s why I called. I saw the pictures and the articles they wrote about yesterday.”_

Nataly waited for her to say something. She said nothing.

 _“How_ are _you?”_

“Fine.”

She heard Nataly sigh. _“I’m not stupid, Misha. I saw the state you were in.”_

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to punch something. She wanted to smash the phone.

“I’m fine.”

She hurt all over, but she was alive. She could still fight. She could still save the world.

_“I don’t believe you.”_

She pinched her nose, fighting the urge to crush the phone and the annoying voice within.

“I don’t care,” she groaned. Nataly swore.

 _“God dammit, Misha, I_ care _about you. You’re going to kill yourself if you keep going on like that.”_

She let out a breath through her nose, slowly and with intent. She made herself lighten her grip on the phone.

“We are divorced,” she forced out, through gritted teeth.

 _“So what, you think just because we’re not married anymore, I don’t worry? That I don’t care about you? I_ love you _, asshole. I’m not going to stop loving you just because you divorced me.”_

She wished she could just smash her head against the wall. Be done with Nataly and all those aggravating headaches once and for all.

“But I did.”

Silence.

The bile was rising in her throat.

 _“...I see,”_ Nataly said, and her voice broke on the last word.

She flinched, but said nothing.

_“...Take care of yourself, Misha.”_

Nataly hung up.

The Hero sagged against the wall, empty and drained and hurt. She hoped Nataly would stop calling. She hoped Nataly would be fine. She hoped Natlay would move on, now. She hoped Nataly would not find out she’d lied.

 

* * *

 

As Cordelia was leaning against the car, waiting for Deb’ to get out of class, she thought that trees were really beautiful. Both materialistically and metaphorically: labyrinth of intricate roots scavenging the soil, a solid, reliable trunk, branches like dozens of arms reaching for the immateriality of the sky. Life, growth, death, with reproduction thrown into the mix. Humans were really just ugly trees. Weak, mobile trees that made far too much noise.

The end of class rung then, and a flow of teenagers ran out the doors. Or dragged themselves out the doors, depending. Cordelia looked for a flash of blue on top of the most beautiful, most handsome face in the world. It wasn’t hard, in this mass of stupid, ugly trees, to find the one she was looking for. Deb’ was making their way through the crowd with ease and a grace none of the others possessed. When they spotted Cordelia, Deb’ shot her the brightest smile and pushed some kid out of their way, extracting themself out of the crowd with class. Cordelia grinned.

“How’s my favorite person ever?” she asked, ruffling Deb’s frizzy hair.

“I pushed an asshole down the stairs and he broke his leg,” they said, grinning.

“Good. Did anyone see you?”

“Nope, not even him!”

Cordelia smiled, feeling like her heart was taking all the room in her ribcage. She ruffled Deb’s hair again, smiling. “I’m proud of you, you know?”

Deb’ smiled back, dimples digging in their cheeks. Their dark skin shone like no other under the afternoon sun, reflecting the light like a little moon. Deb’ really was the most beautiful person in the world.

“I know, mom. I am too,” they said, circling the car to get to the passenger seat. Cordelia shook her head lightly and got into the car.

“Ready to go home?”

Deb’ looked at her, amusement and fondness shining in their eyes. “You know you don’t have to come get me every time, right?”

“Nonsense. Now work your magic, little beetle.”

Deb’ shook their head at their mom, smiling, and snapped their fingers. A fraction of a second later the school disappeared, and they were home.

Cordelia saw Andy jump at their appearance, and bang her head against the hood of the car she had been tinkling with. She stifled a laugh to spare her friend’s dignity, but Deb’ snapped their fingers again and appeared right next to Andy, scaring her to death. Cordelia shook her head, smiling despite herself, and got out of the car. Deb’ had always liked messing with others as soon as they’d discovered what they could do. Cordelia thanked the universe for linking the trigger of Deb’s power in a snap of their fingers, and not something easier to learn. She didn’t know if she would have survived a teleporting baby - raising a regular one had been hard enough as it was.

“Sorry we scared you, Andy,” she said, shooting a look at her kid. Deb’ shrugged.

“Couldn’t help it.”

“That’s alright,” Andy laughed, rubbing her head where it had met the hood. “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

Deb’ leant forward to peek into the car, eyes roaming along the pipes and pistons, trying to make sense of it all. “What were you working on?”

“Oh, uh, nothing much, just - trying to make this one work again, I guess,” she said, and blushed at the curious look Deb’ gave her. “What?”

“Why would you want this one to work, when we have dozens of others much nicer vehicles?” Deb’ gestured to the rest of the garage.

Andy looked around too, considering the question, but her gaze quickly found its way back to the old, dusty car she’d been trying to fix. “I like this one.”

“Why?” Deb’ pressed on, sounding frustrated. Cordelia smiled.

Andy shrugged, hand brushing along the red edge of the car’s guard, smiling fondly at its chipped paint job and dated engine. “I like that she’s old. They don’t make these anymore. They’re too slow, and too small, and not adapted to the engines we make today. Trying to fix her - it’s like flicking through an old photo album.”

“So you’re, what, nostalgic? Did you use to have one like this before?”

“No, I wasn’t born when they stopped making them,” Andy said, shaking her head. The light caught on the shaved skin, and Cordelia spied Deb’s eyes briefly glancing at it. “It’s more like looking into the past, I guess? And dusting it off,” she added with a grin.

Cordelia smiled. It was a nice thought, that in the present the past could be fixed.

“You know,” she said, “I don’t think I ever saw this car working. It’s always been sitting here, as far as I recall.”

Andy looked at her then turned to the car, looking wistful. “That’s a shame, it’s a beauty.”

“If you can fix it, it’s yours.”

“Really?” Andy gasped. There were stars twinkling in her eyes, brighter than Cordelia had ever seen.

She laughed, patting her shoulder. “Of course. Now come, the both of you. I smell dinner.”


	2. So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hero has a mission. Around Cordelia's house, the earth starts to shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief mention of a driving accident with casualties, and brief mention of murder.

The sun was setting. She was standing on the terrasse, watching the slow transition from day to night, wishing the world to end. The air tasted like salt. The gradation of the sky, reflected into the sea - from blue to red, red to blue, all melting - bore accents of the apocalypse. She remembered a time where someone had told her that it was beautiful, the symbolic of a sunset, how it was an end for a renewal, a death for a birth, slow and universal. The endless cycle of life, turning.

She downed her glass of whiskey and stepped back inside, closing the glass door behind her. The alarm hadn’t gone off today. The news channel was a soft, subdued background in the quiet house - nothing but minor incidents that others could handle, nothing for her - barely above the volume of the boiling water. She dumped a portion of pasta into the pot, set the timer for ten minutes.

_“...a car accident on road A34 near Signamore involving a bus… thirty-four injured...”_

She ate out of the pot, sitting at the kitchen island. The sun was almost fully gone now. She watched as the silhouettes of seagulls faded into darkness, the dominant color a dark velvet blue. Her house became the only source of light.

She poured herself another drink and moved to the couch, where she took a sip of whiskey, then left the glass on the armrest. The newsperson looked tired today.

_“...five students dead in a mass shooting… three suspects were arrested by…”_

She grabbed her glass and took a large gulp of the rich, burning liquid, washing the nausea down.

_“...’will not stand by this’ were the last words of Tilda Sturgeon, who was murdered in the middle of her speech against…”_

She watched the tired newsperson deliver two hours of information, letting her consciousness being slowly absorbed by the big shiny screen. Her phone rang, once. It was no one - an error, a fan, an accident perhaps. The number wasn’t registered into her phone, which meant it wasn’t related to work, and that was all she cared about.

When the two hours had passed, she walked to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She drank some water. Sat on the toilets. Undressed.

Her body was a map of scars. She remembered someone saying that. Miles and miles of slashes, burns, crashes. Rugged skin and calluses, everywhere you looked. She was an endless supply of scar tissue that could never be broken. Her hands - the knuckles had cracked too many times for her to count, the skin was dry, the nails were ruins. They weren’t hands, really - just fists. They had not been hands since… a long, long time ago, when she hadn’t known better. Or she _had_ , but had been lying to herself, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t that person she’d always been, that she could put it all aside for just one night, one day, a week. She had been a fool then. Delusional, selfish and dumb. She remembered Nataly…

It hadn’t been worth it.

She put her phone to charge. Went to bed.

There would always be another day.

 

* * *

 

 

Cordelia was three hours into planning her new project when the alarm went off. Not the fire alarm, not the health one - the under-attack alarm. She took three seconds to secure the new leg prototype for Andy so it wouldn’t blow up, then stormed out. She activated the global com on her way up, and told everyone to get inside so she could activate the defense shield. She forced herself to remain calm as everyone filled her in once they’d gathered inside.

_“This is Will, I’m inside with Danton.”_

_“Deb’ here, I’m in, and I got the cats.”_

_“Liêm and Ginette here, we’re inside with Tina.”_

Someone was missing. Cordelia waited a few seconds, then:

“Where’s Andy?”

The deafening silence that followed was all she needed to know. She took a deep breath, and started to change into her suit.

“Does anyone have any idea where she is?”

_“I… I think she went to buy spare parts for that old car she’s fixing…”_

Slow breaths. Calm and steady. They all counted on her, and panicking would lead nowhere.

“Did she tell you where she was going, Deb’?”

_“...No…”_

Cordelia closed her eyes and softly cursed. Okay.

“Can you teleport where she is if you don’t know her location?”

_“...No. I’m sorry, I… I need to be able to visualize it.”_

She sighed. She knew that, but she had thought… she had hoped maybe Deb’ had figured out how to get around that specific problem, and just hadn’t told her yet.

“That’s okay, lil’ bug. It’s not your fault.”

Danton’s voice interrupted them. _“Wait… Even if she’s outside the house, she should have been able to hear you, though, right? All of our personal coms are synced with the house’s system.”_

Cordelia almost dropped her glove. The alarm was still ringing.

_“It’s impossible that she wouldn’t have heard. Liêm and I were outside and we still heard you, even though our coms were off. You designed them that way yourself, Delia.”_

She was very well aware of that. Why hadn’t she realized - she forced herself to breathe. She couldn’t afford to let fear cloud her judgement, not right now. She needed to make a decision, and quick.

_“I could go look for her -”_

“No,” she said, and sighed. “I’m sorry, lil’ bug, but you are all staying inside, where the shield will keep you safe.”

_“What about -”_

“I’ll find her.”

Cordelia put on her mask, opened the garage door and stepped into the car.

_“But mom…!”_

_“Delia -”_

Cordelia started the engine. “This not up for discussion. I said I would protect all of you, so that’s what I’m doing.”

_“Please be careful, mom.”_

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m the Restrainer, remember?”

As soon as she’d drove the car out, she stopped and activated the shield. A shimmer of blue covered the house, and disappeared. As long as it was on, nothing and no one could get either in or out. They would be safe.

“I’ll call if I need help, but until then you stay inside. Tina, you’re in charge.”

Tina’s metallic voiced filled her com as Cordelia pulled away. _“Roger that, Delia. We’re counting on you to bring her back.”_

“Thank you, Ti -”

 _“The_ second _your com goes out, mom, I swear we’re all coming to get you. So don’t shut it off, okay?”_

Cordelia smiled, and pressed the accelerator. “I won’t, lil’ bug. See you soon.”

*

The streets were empty as she drove through, and she didn’t bother respecting the speed limit. Nobody ever came here, anyway - the first town wasn’t until thirty miles away, and even then the place was always dead.

“Idir, can you look for all places selling spare parts for cars in the area, please?”

_“Of course. There are… only two, actually.”_

“Really?”

 _“Well, only two that Andy could have reached in the time since she left the house. See?”_ Idir said, and blue dots appeared on the map that occupied the bottom half of the dashboard screen. _“Estimated time to reach the closest shop is eleven minutes. From there, it will be twenty two minutes to the second shop.”_

Cordelia gritted her teeth, and pressed the accelerator. Every minute that passed without her finding Andy was a minute too long.

“You can’t locate her with the GPS?”

_“I am sorry, but I cannot. She took one of the old cars that is still working. They do not have a tracking system wired in.”_

“Figured,” Cordelia said, and pushed the accelerator further down. “That’s okay, Idir. How  much time until the intruders reach the house?”

Idir zoomed out on the map, and one single red dot showed up, moving towards the house on the road that led to the coast. _“They are about twenty miles away, moving slightly above speed limit. Estimated time is eighteen minutes.”_

“Shit.”

_“I second that sentiment.”_

Cordelia scoffed. “You know you can swear, now, right? I took that stupid program out of your system before I even brought you back to consciousness.”

_“I know. You might want to stop squeezing the steering wheel so hard, though, Cordelia. It will neither stop time nor make the car go faster.”_

Cordelia glanced at her hands, and realized her knuckles had grown white. She hadn’t noticed how hard she’d been gripping the wheel at all. She put her eyes back on the road and made herself relax, then stretched her fingers one hand at a time, careful not to miss a turn.

“How are you holding up, everyone?” she said in the global com.

Deb’ was the first one to speak. _“We’re fine. Have you located Andy yet?”_

“No, but Idir says there are only two places she could have gone to, so that’s where I’m going. How’s the shield?”

 _“It’s in perfect state,”_ Tina chimed in. _“Offensive system is also operative. How far are the enemies?”_

“They’re…” Cordelia said, glancing at the screen, “...about ten minutes away. Be ready.”

_“We already are.”_

“Good.”

*

As Cordelia came close to the first stop, she could see no sign of Andy, though she could picture her coming here with no difficulty whatsoever. The shop itself looked quite old-fashioned, and like it’d been here forever. The sign (it said ‘Car Parts & Maintenance’ in simple blue on white letters) could have used a good paint-job; the opening hours, it seemed, were just ‘whenever’. The glass door was dirty, so much so that she could barely peek inside at the crowded shelves. There was no doubt that a man was seating at the counter, though, visibly playing with some kind of small object he kept throwing and catching with a weird look on his face. Cordelia parked right in front of the door, left her mask on the passenger seat, and quickly got out. Eight minutes left, and they’d need twenty two if Andy wasn’t here.

The shop smelled like oil and dust and steel, the way the garage always smelled when Andy was working on the cars - but Andy was nowhere in sight. Cordelia turned to the man, who immediately stopped playing with whatever object he’d been throwing in the air.

“Sup, Ms,” he said, looking curious. “What’s up with the suit?”

He looked like he was in his forty, had a dirty beard, glasses, a tattoo on his right arm, and smelled like a strange mixture of tobacco and gas.

“I’m looking for my friend. You know an Andy?”

He threw the small object once more, caught it in the air.

“How’d they look?” he said, and threw it again.

“White, no hair, and two prosthetic legs.”

The object fell on the ground. He swore, and bent down to pick it up. “I know that Andy alright,” he said, straightening up, and glared at her. “What d’you want with her? No offense, but you look shady as fuck.”

Cordelia leant over the counter, looking as threatening as she could. She really did not have time for this. “Look, the name’s Cordelia, I’m her friend - and I really need to find her, whatever the means. Obviously she’s not here, but did she come by today?”

“Wait, shit - _you’re_ Cordelia?” the man said, eyes wide, and suddenly grabbed her hand to press something in it. “Here. She told me to give you that.”

“What...” It was her car key. The man had been playing with Andy’s car key. But why -

“Listen, Ms, I don’t know what’s yours and Andy’s deal, but I’m pretty sure she’s in trouble.”

“What do you mean,” she said. Not a question.

“Hey, listen, I didn’t do nothing, okay? She just came in, browsed the shelves, then suddenly her phone went off and she just threw her key at me, told me to give it to you, and ran out - then there was this huge lady biker in front of the shop, and she knocked her out, grabbed her, and reved the fuck out. There was nothing I could’ve done, alright.”

“...Thank you,” Cordelia said, her hand already turning the handle. She wouldn’t have to drive to the second stop, at least - but she’d have to put her foot down if she wanted to get home in time.

“Hey, wait!” the man cried out. She turned back, ready to snap that she didn’t have the time, but he was faster. “That lady biker - I recognized her. She’s the Hero.”

Cordelia stormed out of the shop without a word.

 

* * *

 

 

The girl’s body was light, but bothersome in height, and she kept leaning on the side with each turn the Hero took, and her legs kept hitting hers. It didn’t help that the girl was knocked out, though she suspected that if she’d been conscious she would have been an even bigger pain. Then again, she could have not taken her at all and flown directly to the target’s den. But it wasn’t just anyone she was up against, and she would need the extra leverage. A pity no one but her could bear the speed of her flying.

The country landscape was passing by around her in a blur, like a movie on fast-forward, and the engine of her bike thrummed and thrummed, steady and familiar. Another advantage of using a civilian means of transportation was that she didn’t attract as much attention as she would have flying - if the Hero was lucky, she would take the Restrainer by surprise.

The Restrainer. After years of research, they had finally found her - and she had been so close. All this time, just a little more than a hundred miles away. All those robberies, those kidnappings and those murders - the Hero would finally put it in order. She wouldn’t capture her. There were too many crimes for redemption. But she would put it right, give that villain what she deserved - whatever means necessary. The girl was leverage, if leverage there could be. Monsters rarely got attached, but they had told her she had been spotted alongside the Restrainer a couple times and was likely a minion. It was worth a shot.

The GPS pinged, indicating she was close. The Hero scanned the landscape ahead, seeing nothing… until a few second later, the curving road straightened, and the den appeared.

It was a big house, probably a mansion, and looked fairly modern, although made of very dark grey stones. She could see two floors, big windows and a large garden with many trees rising up with leaves that looked oddly bright against the dark walls of the house. There was a portal and a fence, all black, tall and built to intimidate, with sharp pikes and clichéd hostility. It looked like the modern version of a witch’s manor.

The Hero braked in front of the portal and pushed the kickstand, then turned the engine off and pocketed the key. She grabbed the girl and threw her over her shoulder. Her prosthetic legs were… unlike any she’d ever since, if she was being honest. It wasn’t made to resemble skin at all, but looked like something out of a science-fiction movie instead, what with all those intricate patterns engraved into a very obviously metallic surface. Was the Restrainer using her to experiment new technology? If she really was the Restrainer’s guinea pig, then there was a chance the leverage could work.

The Hero walked towards the portal, and went to open it. Her hand stopped in mid air, an inch before the gate. She tried again. She pushed forward, put her whole weight into it. Blue shimmered in front of the Hero for a moment and she stepped back, surprised, as it immediately faded back to nothing. Something was blocking her.

The Hero stepped forward again, but this time she pushed forward with both hands, working against whatever invisible wall was keeping her from entering. Blue shimmered again, but she kept pushing. It didn’t disappear. As the Hero kept forcing against the surface, it spread, and soon the whole mansion was under a glimmering dome of blue, and the Hero kept pushing.

Slowly, very slowly, so much so that she almost missed it, the Hero’s palms gained ground. She was pushing inside the blue.

It hurt, the Hero realized. Or rather it stung, like hundreds of tiny electric shocks entering her body through her palms, slithering into her flesh down to her toes.

She kept pushing.

 

* * *

 

 

Cordelia heard the breach before she saw it. A loud, searing sound, like a scream, frizzling through the air - and a snap. She knew what it was before Tina told her through the com. She swerved right in front of the portal and got out of the car.

There, staring at her with Andy hanging over her shoulder, stood Misha Malenkov.

“Surrender,” the Hero boomed, “or I will kill the girl.”

Cordelia was vaguely aware that several voices were shouting through the com, saying words, but she could only hear the snap of the shield. Over and over again, the echo. The scream. Andy lying still on the Hero’s shoulder. The glaring, dark red of the suit, the yellow belt, the shine of brass knuckles, the short blond hair: destruction in human form.

Cordelia took a long, deep breath of air, and relaxed her gritted teeth and clenching fists. Andy. She needed to get Andy.

Slowly, carefully, she raised her hand. The Hero smiled… and Deb’ appeared out of nowhere with a drop kick to the Hero’s jaw that distracted her just long enough that Tina was able to grab Andy and sprint away. In the same moment, Deb’ teleported right before the Hero’s fist could reach them, and appeared next to Cordelia, eyes wide, knees close to giving out, but grinning all the way.

“Did you see that?!”

Cordelia wasn’t given the time to answer. The Hero bolted straight towards her, and she had only the time to push her kid out of the way before a fist like a rock stent her flying backwards. The world tumbled. Her back hit her car, and the collision made her fall forward - she barely caught herself with her hands. She was lucky she’d been wearing her mask and reinforced jacket, or she wasn’t sure she’d still be conscious after that.

“ _Mom!_ ”

“Get out of here, Deb! _Now!_ ” she yelled, and ran in the opposite direction. “Tina, bring Andy to Liêm,” she panted in the com, “Ginette, try to get the shield working again, and - shit.”

Cordelia dodged the fist by a hair’s breadth. The Hero had caught up with her. She’d forgotten about the super speed. She quickly jumped a few steps away, and made herself focus.

“Surrender, you can’t -” the Hero said, but a black bubble swallowed the rest of her sentence.

Cordelia smirked. She could see the surprise of the Hero painted very clearly on her face as she realized that she was floating two feet away from the ground. So she hadn’t known.

_“Mom? Are you okay?”_

“Yes. Sorry I scared you. How’s the shield?”

_Thump._

_“Not good,”_ Ginette’s voice said. _“I don’t think I can bring it back on.”_

“Shit. Okay. What about the offensive system?”

_Thump._

_“All good,”_ Will chimed in, _“but she’s out of range.”_

“Okay, I’ll -”

_Thump._

“Wait, what’s -”

The Hero hit the surface once more, and the bubble burst out.


	3. The End Is Near

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hero is met with more resistance than expected.

The bubble had surprised her. From the villain’s name, the Hero had expected cables, chains, ropes, any kind of restraint - but it was her first time seeing something like this. Her first concern had been air, but it seemed she could breathe just fine. The bubble was black and see-through like colored glass, but the material wasn’t anything the Hero had encountered before. It was slippery and quite soft when she simply touched, but when she tried to hit it it took the consistency of steel. The Hero tried to push into it at first, like she had done with the dome, but realized very quickly that it wouldn’t work. So she did the thing she knew best, and punched it. Then punched it again. And again. And again. And the bubble burst out.

The Hero didn’t let the Restrainer run away this time - she charged at her, hard, and hit her shoulder-first. Whatever material her jacket was made out of, the Hero didn’t know, but it felt sturdier than she’d expected. The Restrainer was still knocked down, though, and disoriented enough that she didn’t immediately try to get up.

The Hero hit her mask once, twice, three times, before finally it broke apart, and the Restrainer cried out.

“Surrender,” the Hero said for the third and last time. The Restrainer spat blood, then glared at her. In the palm of her glove the Hero glimpsed at something shining, and caught her wrist just in time.

“A knife?” the Hero said, picking up the blade. She was almost disappointed.

Before the Hero could react, however, the Restrainer was plunging her other hand towards her - the blade sunk deep into her flank, cold and burning. The Hero faltered. The Restrainer pushed her off of her with a quick, powerful strike against the hilt of the knife, but the Hero caught her hand as she fell and sent the Restrainer tumbling forward with her - just close enough that the Hero could reach her with her fist. The Hero punched her face, then grabbed the Restrainer before she could fall, and punched her in the stomach. The Restrainer reeled, gasped, and fell down to her knees. The Hero kicked the side of her face, hard. The Restrainer toppled to the ground.

A scream broke out.

The Hero startled, and looked for the source of the sound. Five people whom she was sure hadn’t been there two seconds ago were standing just a few feet away from her; among them, a teenager with blue hair was crying. Apart from the teenager, there was the girl with prosthetic legs and the android from before, and two men. The shorter one had bronze skin and some sort of rifle in his hands. The other had knuckles. The teenager had a bat.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” the Hero asked, grabbing the Restrainer’s body. “I don’t need any help.”

“I’d rather die than help you!” the teenager shouted. “Who do you think you are!”

The Hero frowned.  “I’m the Hero. This woman is a villain. I don’t have anything to do with you, I’m just here to kill her.”

“Like hell you will!” the teenager said, and then was gone.

The Hero looked around, surprised - and her face was met with a swinging bat that sent her tumbling to the side. She swirled around, ready to block another swing, but the teenager had disappeared. The Hero turned back - they were back with the group, and with the Restrainer’s body too. She swore. What a stupid mistake, letting herself being taken by surprise. She looked at the group, and met only anger. The villain was the Restrainer, but if she had to take down her minions to get her, she would. It would take little more time.

She bolted, and struck the teenager hard enough to send them flying. They did, but the android caught them before they could hit the ground. The Hero caught a movement behind her, and flew off. Something grazed her calf.

She turned back toward the taller man, the one with the knuckles, and looked at him. He didn’t have a gun. But then what… The Hero got her answer when a laser shot out of the man’s left eye and hit her shoulder, then started to melt the skin there. She swore again, wincing, and swerved out of the laser’s aim fast enough to get behind the man before he could turn around. She kicked the side of his head hard enough to knock him down.

Someone cried out, again.

The Hero turned towards the source of the noise, and was hit by a blast of energy that sent her to the ground. She got up quickly but her head was spinning, and the shorter man fired another blast. She tried to dodge it, but her body was too slow and the Hero fell once more to the ground. She heaved herself up, determined to neutralize that damn rifle, winced when her body complained, pushed through the pain anyway. She was the Hero; no matter how many times she fell she would always get back up. She was the Hero and they were the villain’s minions, and if she had to kill them all herself to get to their leader, she would. Whatever it would take, she would always do it.

She was the Hero, and she had never lost - she wouldn’t lose this fight.

She stood up. The man with the rifle was pulling the taller man away from her, too occupied with each other to bother her again. The Hero looked around, searching for the other ones, and saw that the girl with the prosthetic legs was charging towards her. An act of desperation. She scoffed, waiting to intercept the girl with her fist… But the interception never came. The girl had jumped in the air, and swung her metallic leg right to her head.

The Hero staggered to the ground, vision swaying.

*

The girl with the prosthetic legs raised her foot for another kick, and swung. The Hero caught the foot before it could reach her. She grabbed hold of the leg and the girl, and threw them against the man with the rifle who had been preparing to shoot. The both of them toppled to the ground with a thud, and stopped moving.

Next, the Hero looked for the android. She was standing not too far away, blocking her view of the teenager, who was still kneeling over the Restrainer, crying. The Hero stared at her, and the android didn’t waver. She took a step forward. The android bolted. The Hero waited, waited until the android was close enough… and jumped over her. The android didn’t turn fast enough to dodge the side-kick that sent her flying close to where the others were. She, too, did not try to stand back up.

A movement caught the corner of her eye again, and this time the Hero knew to react fast. She ducked, the bat grazing the top of her head, and straightened back up immediately, hook already swinging towards the teenager’s flank. Their scream was the most piercing of them all.

When she was sure she teenager wasn’t going to get up, the Hero walked up to the motionless body of the Restrainer.

“I don’t understand,” the Hero said. “Why would your minions be willing to go through so much pain just so they could buy you a few more minutes?”

The Restrainer opened her eyes, and looked at Misha with eyes as wide as they were pained.

The Restrainer opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. A blast of energy knocked the air out of the Hero’s lungs. She swayed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where you choose the ending you want. Each of the following chapters, once posted, will lead to a different ending.  
> There are no rules - you can pick one, several, or explore all possibilities. Just let me know which one you liked best!


	4. A Dawn Like Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, Blood, Death

Red, orange and purple filled the sky like a painting of hell. The scent of blood disappeared under the smell of burnt flesh and sweat, and the world was a canvas for pain. Rubble covered the ground, piles and piles of it, stone and trunks and broken glass littered everywhere, glowing red under the sky.

On blood-smudged grass surrounded by broken things stood the Hero who’d saved the day.

If it were not for the wind, nothing would be moving.

*

When night had fallen and the blood had dried, the Hero picked the villain’s body up. She looked around. If she focused, she could almost hear them wheeze. Shallow breaths and twisted limbs, chests barely rising.

The Hero walked to her motorbike. It stood still where she had left it, unscathed. She positioned the Restrainer’s body as best she could and sat down behind it. She turned one last glance towards the ruins of the mansion and the bodies lying there, then turned the key and finally drove away.

It was relaxing, this absence of crowd. More villains should live in the middle of nowhere. Those minions, though - she was glad they were an anomaly. The fight had been exhausting. She couldn’t remember most of it, but dealing with that many people had been bothersome, more so than avoiding projectiles. And they hey had been such an odd group, what with all this dedication to a villain everyone feared… There was something there she couldn’t quite shake off. Something disturbing, but quiet. Something buried. She wondered what the Restrainer had promised them, and whether they would be able to get it - probably not. But they were still alive, and that was already more than anyone who’d ever tried to stop her.

They might come for her life later.

She almost hoped they would.


	5. The World is Only as Vast as Your Horizons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, Blood, Death

She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out. She cursed, and tried again. And again. And again. When she finally managed to stand up on wobbly legs, blood dripping from her flank, it lasted only for as long as it took the teenager to knock her back down with their bat.

 

* * *

 

 For a while, Cordelia couldn’t quite remember where she was. She could see nothing, so she listened. There was… a voice. Soft, and familiar. Like a distant memory. Who…

_Amaal, my love._

...But no, the voice was here. It wasn’t a memory.

If only she could wake up…

_Ouch._

Cordelia curled over from the pain, and everything came back.

Misha Malenkov had found her.

“Mom! Mom, are you alright?”

Cordelia opened her eyes. Deb’ was kneeling over her, cheeks streaked with tears. Their hair was a mess coronating a face of dark brown sand with a halo of waves. Was Deb’ the voice that she’d heard?

“Mom!” they cried out, and Cordelia’s answer died out on her lips as she was caught in a very tight hug. She was startled at first, but then Deb’ started sobbing in the crook of her neck and she hugged them back, holding their small body in her arms the way she always had. Everything hurt - her face, her stomach, her heart. But she was still alive.

*

After a while, when Deb’s sobbing had subsided, Cordelia asked them to help her get on her feet. She looked around, relief feeling her lungs. They were all still alive.

Will and Danton were holding hands, foreheads touching, whispering private words a few feet away from Tina, who stood with the light of the sun shining off of her like a moon, and Andy next to her, taller than she’d ever been. In front of them both lay the body of Misha Malenkov.

“Is she…”

Deb’ followed her line of sight, and they started walking. “Dead? No. We were waiting for you to wake up.”

“I’m not the one she kidnapped.”

“Andy doesn’t need the weight of a death on her shoulders.”

“True,” Cordelia sighed.

Andy caught her gaze and came toward them, frowning.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Cordelia said, waving away her concerns. “Is anyone else hurt?”

“Danton took a blow, but he’s fine.”

Cordelia nodded, then gestured towards Misha. “What about her?”

Andy turned around to give the body a look, and turned back with conflict clearly etched in the lines of her face. “Unconscious. She’ll live though.”

“You should have seen the kick Andy threw in her face, it was fucking majestic. Asshole over there didn’t see it coming at all,” Deb’ added with a grin, and Andy flushed an interesting shade of red.

Cordelia shot her kid a curious look and Deb’ simply shrugged, big grin blooming across her face.

A groan came from Misha’s body then, and all the smiles vanished.

*

She looked terrible by all account, though Cordelia doubted she was any better. There was dirt everywhere, countless bruises deformed her face, and a large stream of blood maculated her suit all the way down to her right foot from the knife Cordelia’d planted her with; her right shoulder was bloody, too, and the fabric there was burnt. Her body reeked of sweat, blood and burning flesh.

“I don’t understand,” she said to Cordelia’s feet. “Why are all your minions so determined to fight for you?”

At first Cordelia thought it was a joke. But then she met Misha’s eyes - they were such tiny, tiny worlds... In spite of herself, an ocean of pity swelled within her for this lonely galaxy. So she crouched over Misha, and bent closer to her ear.

“They’re not my minions. They’re my family.”

Then she pulled a knife out of her boot and with a swift, clean movement, Cordelia slit the Hero’s throat.


	6. What Strength Cannot Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Third Ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, Blood, Death.

She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out. She cursed, and tried again. And again. And again. When she finally managed to stand up on wobbly legs, blood dripping from her flank, it lasted only for as long as it took the teenager to knock her back down with their bat.

 

* * *

 

For a while, Cordelia couldn’t quite remember where she was. She could see nothing, so she listened. There was… a voice. Soft, and familiar. Like a distant memory. Who…

_Amaal, my love._

...But no, the voice was here. It wasn’t a memory.

If only she could wake up…

_Ouch._

Cordelia curled over from the pain, and everything came back.

Misha Malenkov had found her.

“Mom! Mom, are you alright?”

Cordelia opened her eyes. Deb’ was kneeling over her, cheeks streaked with tears. Their hair was a mess coronating a face of dark brown sand with a halo of waves. Was Deb’ the voice that she’d heard?

“Mom!” they cried out, and Cordelia’s answer died out on her lips as she was caught in a very tight hug. She was startled at first, but then Deb’ started sobbing in the crook of her neck and she hugged them back, holding their small body in her arms the way she always had. Everything hurt - her face, her stomach, her heart. But she was still alive.

*

After a while, when Deb’s sobbing had subsided, Cordelia asked them to help her get on her feet. She looked around, relief feeling her lungs. They were all still alive.

Will and Danton were holding hands, foreheads touching, whispering private words a few feet away from Tina, who stood with the light of the sun shining off of her like a moon, and Andy next to her, taller than she’d ever been. In front of them both lay the body of Misha Malenkov.

“Is she…”

Deb’ followed her line of sight, and they started walking. “Dead? No. We were waiting for you to wake up.”

“I’m not the one she kidnapped.”

“Andy doesn’t need the weight of a death on her shoulders.”

“True,” Cordelia sighed.

Andy caught her gaze and came toward them, frowning.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Cordelia said, waving away her concerns. “Is anyone else hurt?”

“Danton took a blow, but he’s fine.”

Cordelia nodded, then gestured towards Misha. “What about her?”

Andy turned around to give the body a look, and turned back with conflict clearly etched in the lines of her face. “Unconscious. She’ll live though.”

“You should have seen the kick Andy threw in her face, it was fucking majestic. Asshole over there didn’t see it coming at all,” Deb’ added with a grin, and Andy flushed an interesting shade of red.

Cordelia shot her kid a curious look and Deb’ simply shrugged, big grin blooming across her face.

A groan came from Misha’s body then, and all the smiles vanished.

*

She looked terrible by all account, though Cordelia doubted she was any better. There was dirt everywhere, countless bruises deformed her face, and a large stream of blood maculated her suit all the way down to her right foot from the knife Cordelia’d planted her with; her right shoulder was bloody, too, and the fabric there was burnt. Her body reeked of sweat, blood and burnt flesh.

She looked like it was a battle just to sit.

“Why haven’t you killed me,” she said, and it sounded like a statement.

“Because it is our decision to make,” Cordelia said, glancing at Andy, who was glaring holes into the ground.

“You should kill me,” Misha Malenkov said. Her voice was the flattest Cordelia’d ever heard.

“We will,” she shrugged. “But taking a life is never something easy to do.”

Misha scoffed. “Like you really care. You’re villains, that’s what you do.”

Next to Andy, Deb’ froze, and Danton pulled Will closer.

Cordelia smiled. “Because you don’t?”

She flinched. “I kill those who deserve it, and I make things right _._ _You_ only spur chaos.”

“ _You_ don’t know anything,” Will interrupted, sounding angrier with each word. “You have no fucking _clue_ what we do, so don’t fucking act like it!”

Misha stared at him, eyes wide as little worlds, and for a moment there was only silence.

“...I don’t understand,” she said. “It should have been easy to beat all of you.”

Cordelia smiled. “I pity you.”

Then she pulled a knife out of her boot and with a swift, clean movement, Cordelia slit the Hero’s throat.

 


	7. Walls of Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fourth Ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, Blood, Jail.

She tried to stand up, but her legs gave out. She cursed, and tried again. And again. And again. When she finally managed to stand up on wobbly legs, blood dripping from her flank, it lasted only for as long as it took the teenager to knock her back down with their bat.

 

* * *

 

For a while, Cordelia couldn’t quite remember where she was. She could see nothing, so she listened. There was… a voice. Soft, and familiar. Like a distant memory. Who…

_Amaal, my love._

...But no, the voice was here. It wasn’t a memory.

If only she could wake up…

_Ouch._

Cordelia curled over from the pain, and everything came back.

Misha Malenkov had found her.

“Mom! Mom, are you alright?”

Cordelia opened her eyes. Deb’ was kneeling over her, cheeks streaked with tears. Their hair was a mess coronating a face of dark brown sand with a halo of waves. Was Deb’ the voice that she’d heard?

“Mom!” they cried out, and Cordelia’s answer died out on her lips as she was caught in a very tight hug. She was startled at first, but then Deb’ started sobbing in the crook of her neck and she hugged them back, holding their small body in her arms the way she always had. Everything hurt - her face, her stomach, her heart. But she was still alive.

*

After a while, when Deb’s sobbing had subsided, Cordelia asked them to help her get on her feet. She looked around, relief feeling her lungs. They were all still alive.

Will and Danton were holding hands, foreheads touching, whispering private words a few feet away from Tina, who stood with the light of the sun shining off of her like a moon, and Andy next to her, taller than she’d ever been. In front of them both lay the body of Misha Malenkov.

“Is she…”

Deb’ followed her line of sight, and they started walking. “Dead? No. We were waiting for you to wake up.”

“I’m not the one she kidnapped.”

“Andy doesn’t need the weight of a death on her shoulders.”

“True,” Cordelia sighed.

Andy caught her gaze and came toward them, frowning.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Cordelia said, waving away her concerns. “Is anyone else hurt?”

“Danton took a blow, but he’s fine.”

Cordelia nodded, then gestured towards Misha. “What about her?”

Andy turned around to give the body a look, and turned back with conflict clearly etched in the lines of her face. “Unconscious. She’ll live though.”

“You should have seen the kick Andy threw in her face, it was fucking majestic. Asshole over there didn’t see it coming at all,” Deb’ added with a grin, and Andy flushed an interesting shade of red.

Cordelia shot her kid a curious look and Deb’ simply shrugged, big grin blooming across her face.

A groan came from Misha’s body then, and all the smiles vanished.

*

She looked terrible by all account, though Cordelia doubted she was any better. There was dirt everywhere, countless bruises deformed her face, and a large stream of blood maculated her suit all the way down to her right foot from the knife Cordelia’d planted her with; her right shoulder was bloody, too, and the fabric there was burnt. Her body reeked of sweat, blood and burnt flesh.

She looked like it was a battle just to sit.

“Why haven’t you killed me,” she said, and it sounded like a statement.

“Because it is our decision to make,” Cordelia said, glancing at Andy, who was glaring holes into the ground.

“You should kill me,” Misha Malenkov said. Her voice was the flattest Cordelia’d ever heard.

“We will,” she shrugged. “But taking a life is never something easy to do.”

Misha scoffed. “Like you really care. You’re villains, that’s what you do.”

Next to Andy, Deb’ froze, and Danton pulled Will closer.

Cordelia smiled. “Because you don’t?”

Misha instantly went rigid. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” she yelled.

She was ready to say more, but Tina stopped her in her track.

“Every single individual that any of us has killed deserved it.”

Misha glared at her. “How could you possibly know -”

“I have all the data stored in my system, for every death and every theft. If you checked all of them one at a time, you would find none of them was undeserved. Could you say the same?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you are all villains and did this out of the law, for your own gains. Vengeance is not a solution.”

“Like working with the law makes any difference,” Cordelia said.

The Hero roared. “I am -”

Tina didn’t let her finish. “Josh Turner, abuse and tax-fraud,’ she said, looking straight into her eyes, and each name was like a dagger to her throat. “Madeline Tremont, arson. Franz Sottof, rape. Kevin Blanc, murder. Caroline Sidhi, abuse, tax-fraud and gang activities. Michael Devin, theft and assault. Lena -”

Cordelia put a hand on Tina’s shoulder, interrupting the flow of names. “I think that’s enough, Tina,” she said, glancing at Andy. She looked ready to throw up.

Tina immediately softened. “Sorry,” she said, and turned back to Misha. “I have all the data stored in my system, for every death and every theft. If you checked all of them one at a time, you would find none of them was undeserved.”

She glared at her. “Laws exist for a reason. If you want people to suffer for their crimes, there is

a judiciary system just for that.”

“Sometimes the laws are flawed,” Cordelia said. “Besides, I doubt your methods are completely legal, either.”

“I am employed by the government. You want me to believe you killed all those people out of some twisted ideal of justice?”

“Yes, no, believe what you want. It doesn’t make a difference to us,” Cordelia stepped in. “We know we acted right. Can you say as much?”

“Yes,” the Hero said, and crushed the villain’s leg. She went for the android next. Tore her life system right out of her chest. Then the teenager - a solid hit to the head. She punched the consciousness out of one of the guys’ stomach, and used his body to knock the other one out.

She squeezed the Restrainer’s neck until all life had fled her eyes.

No fight the Hero’d ever fought had been as tedious as this one.

 

* * *

 

She did not sleep for three days.

On the morning of the fourth day since the Restrainer had been taken down, Misha rode her motorbike to the Cube.

She had never been to the Cube, but everyone there knew her face. They let her through.

She pushed the heavy doors to room 678910 with both arms. They opened on a cubicle of roughly 20 meters cube. The room was split in the middle with a pane of glass, folded ten times over itself. In the bottom half of the room, a metal chair. Screwed to the ground. On the other side of the room, a chair. Plastic, light on the cement floor. Mish walked to stand facing the middle of the glass pane - the plastic chair was left ignored. Sitting on the other side of the room was Cordelia.

The silence settled in Misha’s guts like stones. Like everything she disliked, she broke it.

“Why were your minions so determined to save you?”

Cordelia’s face, which had been painted blank with calm until now, was distorted by a small, sad smile. Misha smashed her fist against the glass, crackling it.

“Answer me.”

Cordelia shook her head lightly. “I pity you, Hero.”

Misha grit her teeth.

“ _Answer me,_ ” she chewed out. Cordelia smiled again.

“Why? You have no power over me. And what could you possibly promise me?”

“I could break this glass as easily as paper.”

Cordelia’s smile faded slowly. She considered Misha for a long, agonizing second. Then she leaned slightly over, closer to the glass wall.

“I am going to tell you,” she said, slow and deliberate, “but not because you threatened me. I am going to tell you because you pity me.”

Misha pressed her nails into her palms.

“Spit it out already.”

“Not used to this, I suppose?” Cordelia smiled, eyes of liquid galaxies. “Those people you took down - they’re not minions. They are my family.”

Misha stormed out of the room in a breath, fleeing from Cordelia’s eyes’ crushing weight.

At the corner of the Hero’s eye shone the single tear of a very small world gravitating around its cold, dead star, lost in the vast expanse of the cold, dead space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. Tell me, which ending did you like best?


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